


Red is the Color of My True Love's Hair

by greenripper (OracleGlass)



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Hypnosis, Hypnotic suggestion, Multi, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 23:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OracleGlass/pseuds/greenripper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane uses his powers only for good.  For his good, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red is the Color of My True Love's Hair

It was ridiculously easy, what Jane had set out to do, particularly for a man of his talents, which were numerous and wider-ranging than anyone had yet realized. The entire team trusted him by now, and really he wasn't exactly breaking that trust. No, not really. Despite his occasional claims to the contrary (it would never do to let people in on trade secrets), hypnotism couldn't make people do anything against their deeply-felt desires. Therefore, as logically as night follows day, it wasn't difficult for Jane to justify the little experiment he was running. Over the course of a month or so, he had primed the two of them perfectly, catching them in moments when their guards were lowered. He would murmur soft instructions in a particular tone of voice, had carefully planted certain...impulses. Without him, things might never have come to pass, he told himself. He preened a little bit, seeing himself as the benefactor.

Besides, this way he got to play, too.

Van Pelt and Rigsby had finally taken the first step. He could practically smell it on them both, above the spicy, greasy odor wafting up from the celebratory pizzas. The two of them were doing their best not to let their eyes meet. Van Pelt was remarkably controlled – Jane would have bet money on the fact that she wouldn't have been able to hide flushed cheeks, but here she was eating a slice of plain cheese with a determined air. But it couldn't hold for long. After about twenty minutes, Van Pelt excused herself and left, picking up her purse and swinging out of the station with a little extra roll to her hip. Rigsby's eyes tracked her, and he began shifting in his seat. After almost exactly ten minutes, he got up, babbled an excuse, and left as well. Jane could see it in his mind, Van Pelt sitting in her car, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, maybe chewing nervously at the cuticle of her left thumb. Unsurprisingly, Cho and Lisbon noticed, Lisbon's face betraying a small worried crease between her eyebrows. No-one said anything. Jane was always the one who broached complicated topics. He stood up, flourished a handkerchief with which to clean his fingertips, and announced, "Enough celebrating for me, I think. Pats on the back all around, loud huzzahs, and I'm going home to bed."

Lisbon smiled up at him. "Don't let a ghost getcha."

He returned the smile, turned on his heel, and was out the door with his usual cat-quietness.

****

If you had asked Rigsby how he and Grace had gotten to the hotel, he couldn't have answered. He had met Grace by her car, and the second he had slid into the passenger seat Grace had pounced, sliding her hands inside his suit jacket and running her tongue along his lower lip. They had necked for a moment like frantic teenagers, pulling away from each other only when lack of oxygen forced them to surface.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Grace. Her eyes were wide in the light from the streetlamp. They were like limpid pools that could drown a man. Had that thought come from him? What an odd thing. He wasn't poetic. It sounded like something Jane would say, actually.

"I feel...dizzy. And I want you so badly, Grace. I can't think of anything else I'd ever want but you."

She turned the key in the ignition. "Then let's go." And somehow it wasn't surprising when she didn't go to either of their houses. It just felt right to let Grace drive to wherever they were going, to kiss softly at stoplights, to stroke her hair and the nape of her neck.

*****

The hotel room was huge, with a bed that dominated everything. Obviously some sort of honeymoon suite, because there wasn't much else you could think of doing once you got in there. The keys had been waiting for them at the front desk, which somehow was exactly right, although, if Rigsby thought about it too hard, shouldn't have been. But it was easy to stop thinking, with Grace twining around him like ivy, her hands unbuttoning his shirt so she could slide them against his stomach and up his back. He was panting softly, and so was she, little tiny gasps against his chest. He fumbled her blazer off and slid his hands up to her back to unclasp her bra, and was just sliding it out from under her shirt when the door opened and Patrick Jane walked in, smiling at the pair of them benevolently.

Grace and Rigsby froze.

"Hello, you two. I'm so glad to see you're getting along." He settled himself in a chair near the bed, propping one foot up on the ottoman. "Don't let me stop you. You make such a pretty picture together."

Two very long seconds passed. Grace made a muffled noise, and lifted her face up to Rigsby. "Don't stop kissing me. I don't care, just don't stop."

"Never refuse a request like that from a lady, Rigsby. It's very rude."

Rigsby groaned, and lowered his head to meet Grace's mouth. She nipped his lower lip, then slid her tongue into his mouth. He pulled her up into his lap, letting her feel his erection through the thin fabric of his pants, and spread his hands along the small of her back, then up into her hair, tugging her ponytail free.

"I think," said Jane, "that I'd very much like to see Grace's breasts. Will you show them to me, Rigsby?"

There was no hesitation in either of them. Grace rose to her feet, and Rigsby helped her unzip the tiny side zipper of her blouse. In a few seconds it fluttered to the floor. Her breasts were small, and perfect, with delicate pink nipples that stiffened in the air-conditioned chill of the room, or perhaps from her excitement. Rigsby stood up behind her, cupping her breasts in his big hands, and running his thumbs over her nipples, making her squirm with pleasure.

"Beautiful. You're beautiful, Grace. Show me more."

Rigsby continued to play with her breasts as Grace obediently unfastened her skirt, letting it puddle to the ground around her feet, then stepping out of her shoes. She stood before the two men like an offering, wearing only an absolutely van Pelt-like pair of white panties with a tiny bow on each hip.

Patrick's hand wandered down to his lap, and at the sight of him stroking himself Grace blushed, dark and hot. Rigsby slid his hands down to her hips and began to gently nudge her panties downward, until they too joined her skirt on the floor. Grace's hands fluttered for a moment as if wanting to cover herself, but as Rigsby continued to move his hands down her sides, she surrendered, leaning back against him.

"You two look wonderful together. Grace, don't you want Rigsby to take off his clothes as well? It's only fair."

A second later, Rigsby's shirt was on the floor, minus a few buttons. Grace had been a little more forceful in her attack on his clothing. Rigsby's undershirt followed, then his pants, until he was left in only a pair of boxers that Grace was quickly coaxing down his thighs. He sat down on the bed abruptly, as if his legs had given way, and she pulled them off completely, pausing for a moment to remove his socks. She leaned forward and ran her cheek against his inner thigh, like a cat marking her territory, and Rigsby could feel her warm breath along his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt her lips slide around him. He tangled his hands in her hair, pulling her closer, fucking her mouth.

"Oh, very nice," whispered Jane. "Lovely, indeed."

Grace pulled away and directed a dark look in his direction. Her lips were slightly swollen from Rigsby's earlier kisses, and for a moment Jane had trouble hearing her because he was so focused on her lush mouth.

"Speaking of fair, Jane. How is it fair that you're sitting over there? You owe us something, don't you?"

Jane laughed softly. Grace was turning out to be full of surprises this evening, more eager than he ever guessed she'd be. "I suppose I do. But I'm comfortable right now, love. Will this make you happier with me?" Keeping his eyes fixed on Grace's, he unzipped himself and eased out his cock, pumping it gently. "This is the effect you have on me, Grace."

She nodded. "It'll do. For now." She turned away from him and crawled up onto the bed, where Rigsby had sat with his back against the headboard. This created a delicious view for Jane, and his hand pumped a little faster at the sight. Rigsby sat back against the pillows and pulled Grace down to him, her back against him so he could kiss the side of her neck and continue to toy gently with her breasts and belly. He moved his hands lower, rubbing two fingers against her clit, and she gasped and arched backwards, her knees moving apart.

Patrick groaned softly, and bit his lower lip at the sight of her spread out before him, with Rigsby's exploring fingers spreading her open to his gaze.

Rigsby teased her, sliding in, out, in-between. Jane's breath caught, and his hand moved a little more vigorously on his own cock as Rigsby's fingers slid inside Grace and she moaned, bucking her hips upwards to drive them in more deeply. He growled something Jane couldn't hear against her neck, and in response she arched upwards, crying out as she came against his hand.

When it had passed, she lay limply against Rigsby for a moment, then tilted her face up to him and whispered, "I want you inside me. I need you. Right now. Please."

The word please in her soft voice nearly drove him mad, but he grasped at the last few shreds of his reason. "I...Grace, I don't have anything. I didn't really know this was going to happen..." His voice trailed off as a foil wrapped packet flew on the bed next to him.

"I knew," said Jane calmly.

Rigsby thought about pursuing that line of thought for a moment, but Grace was crawling forward on her hands and knees. He had the condom on and was moving forward to grasp her hips before he could stop himself. And when he slid inside her...oh god, it was so right. She was tight and hot around him, and as he thrust she pushed back eagerly, taking as much of him as he had to give. And all the while, Patrick Jane was watching them both with bright eyes, his hand moving up and down over his own cock. He sped up, thrusting more deeply, and Patrick's hand sped up to match the pace as Grace cried out and bucked, a second orgasm rolling through her. It was all too much, and Rigsby gasped as his own orgasm overtook him, his eyes on Patrick's, his hands pulling Grace's hips against him, like they were sharing her, like they were all three of them one surging creature.

He roared when he came, but Patrick was silent, almost grim.

Later, after a long moment where the only sound was that of soft panting, Rigsby pursued an earlier thought with a drowsy mind. "Jane...how...how did you...?"

"Never mind," said Grace.

And the last sound he heard before he fell asleep was Patrick's soft chuckle.


End file.
